Getting Better
by KneazleFrizz
Summary: Hermione is suffering severe survivor's guilt and Severus decides to soothe her. Drabble.


**Author's Note: **JKR owns all.

* * *

The young woman sitting at the at table in the much-used kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place raised her head reluctantly from her cup of tea to see the time. _2:30 a.m._

She sighed, put her head in her arms, and finally broke down.

* * *

The dark man strode silently into the kitchen, intent on a late-night cup of tea to help him fall asleep. His nightmares had been especially tormenting of late.

Upon his entrance, he saw the defeated looking form sitting in the center of the long table. Her mass of curly hair spilled out all around her bent head, and her shoulders rocked with the force of her quiet sobs. The man wondered at it silently, then walked fully into the room, letting his presence become known.

* * *

The woman looked up quickly at the entrance of another being, who at present was making his way to the tea kettle. Upon recognition of the intruder, she immediately moved to stare intently at the table where she was sat, not wanting him to see her tear-stained face. But she instinctively knew he had already noticed.

* * *

He stood with his back to her. Subtly, out of the corner of his eye, the man saw the woman's cheeks burn with embarrassment at having been caught in a moment of weakness. He felt of wave of uncharacteristic guilt wash through him at having interrupted what was clearly a private moment. One did not get many of those in times of war, or the harsh time after the war that was left for survivors.

* * *

The woman noticed how the man took his time perfecting his cup of tea, and looked up. She appreciated that he had not yet shown her his usual scowl or remarked unfavorably at her mental weakness. She used this moment, as he watched the tea leaves color the warm water, to study him. His back was rigid, but his hands were graceful as the carefully poured milk into his brew. He had not changed much since the end of the war, as many had. Perhaps that was because he had lived his whole life like her last three weeks.

* * *

He tried to drag out the process of brewing his tea, so that he may stay in the oddly exhilarating presence of the woman at the table. He knew she was watching him; he could feel her stare at his back. He knew she did this same activity during meetings. She would watch him with her large brown eyes, curiosity, worry, and awe quite plain upon her face. He slowly turned to look at the woman, tea in hand.

* * *

When he finished his tea after its meticulous preparation, the man moved to look at her. The woman could feel her cheeks flush hotly at his own study of her. He then took careful, measured steps in the direction of the table where she sat, and raised his eyebrows in question. She was shocked at this courtesy, and quickly nodded her head.

* * *

The man sat across from her, and they enjoyed a companionable silence for a few minutes as they drank their tea. Neither chose to comment on the woman's tears or the man's reason for being awake at such a late hour. They both knew the answers, words were not even needed.

* * *

After a considerable length of time, though, the man chose to speak up. His low voice was gentle and crushed the silence with its baritone perfection.

"It will get better."

The woman's eyes reflected her surprise at his soothing tone, which most definitely lacked the condensation that outsiders always seemed to carry.

She smiled despite herself.

* * *

Her smile was stunning. She lit up the room with it. Her face showed a contradiction of emotions, but he had never seen anything more beautiful. When had this happened? Without knowledge of his actions, his long fingers reached out and cupped her chin. She did not jolt out of his grasp, even when his eyes let her know it would have been understood-nay-appropriate for her to do so. She instead looked at him more intently and bit her bottom lip in the most unconsciously provocative way.

* * *

The woman looked expectantly at the man, hoping despite reason that he would act on the emotions she saw in his eyes. She had felt a certain longing towards him for the last few months, but only allowed herself the occasional study of him during Order meetings. To think that he reciprocated her feelings would be…just the sort of joy she quite needed right now.

* * *

He could tell she was quite wrapped up within herself, and so he chose that moment to lean over and place his lips upon her own. So feather-light was the touch, but she immediately brought her hands up to gently frame his face. She moved to deepen the kiss, but he slowly, with every ounce of his considerable mental strength, pulled away. He looked deep into her eyes, quite easily now that her face was a hair's length away from his own. The woman stared back so lovingly he internally rejoiced and thanked the fates who he had previously cursed before this moment.

* * *

The woman smiled, and with his thumb rubbing her cheek gently, said,

"I'm quite sure that it already has gotten better."

* * *

_~finite~_

_Author's Note: Hermione is suffering severe survivor's guilt and Severus decides to soothe her._


End file.
